


hold my hand, hold my hand (it hurts when you squeeze too tight)

by despitethewives (choirboyharem)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, supermega
Genre: Dacryphilia, Emetophilia, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Homophobic Language, M/M, Physical Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28646343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choirboyharem/pseuds/despitethewives
Summary: “You seriously are a fucking wreck.” Ryan dug his shoe into Matt’s cheek, shoving in until there wasn’t any more give in Matt’s paper-thin skin. “I can’t believe you let me get you this drunk. Tell me something, Matt, did you only want me to get this drunk so you could make it easier for me to push you around?”
Relationships: Ryan Magee/Matt Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	hold my hand, hold my hand (it hurts when you squeeze too tight)

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably one of the more disgusting things i've ever written. i blame my groupchat. mind the tags.

“You’re so fucking sloppy. Look at you. You’re fucking disgusting.”

Matt giggled dazedly, bringing his hand to his mouth, hiding behind it. “Don’t,” he whined. “Don’t—don’t make fun of me.” He was crumpled on the floor, looking up at Ryan with glassy eyes, his shirt rucked up and tangled around his chest. “You’re, like, you’re being too mean.”

“I’m not making fun of you. I’m simply stating a fact.” Ryan leaned down to scoop Matt off the floor, cradling him before unceremoniously dropping him on the couch in a heap. Matt only caught the edge of it and crashed back onto the carpet, wheezing as the wind was knocked out of him. He coughed weakly. 

“You missed,” Matt mumbled. 

_“You_ missed. You should’ve hit the couch, dummy.” Ryan kicked at Matt’s side, rolling him over. Matt drew his arms up, looking like he was flinching away, fingers curled and hiding his eyes. 

“I tried to hit it. It was an accident.” Matt giggled again, sounding pathetic and plaintive, turning his head. Ryan pressed the toe of his shoe into Matt’s cheek, pushing at it until Matt faced upright. 

“You seriously are a fucking wreck.” Ryan dug his shoe into Matt’s cheek, shoving in until there wasn’t any more give in Matt’s paper-thin skin. “I can’t believe you let me get you this drunk. Tell me something, Matt, did you only want me to get this drunk so you could make it easier for me to push you around?” 

“I didn’t _let_ you,” Matt protested. “Ow. You just _got_ me this drunk. You _told_ me to drink.” 

“You’re so bad at telling people no. Guess that’s why no one’s ever been to jail over doing fucked-up shit to you before. You can’t cry rape. You _won’t_ cry rape. Why don’t you ever tell me no?” Ryan nudged Matt’s glasses, just looking at them for a moment.

“I...“ Matt trailed off. He looked horribly pale. Maybe he was going to be sick. “I do. But you don’t stop. Like, ever.”

Ryan guessed he really didn’t. He didn’t think he had a reason to. Matt made all of this shit so fucking easy that Ryan didn’t have to take more than he was offered, but he did anyway. He just… could. There wasn’t a limit. He lifted his shoe and brought it down on Matt’s face, stomping on it. 

Matt screamed. It was a bloodcurdling scream, genuine agony echoing the empty apartment. His nose had exploded under the pressure and it was streaming, looking slightly off-center. His glasses were cracked like they’d been shot through with bullets. His shaking hands clutched at his nose, his fingers growing slippery with blood. 

He broke so easily. Ryan felt a sense of superiority and power so strong it almost scared him. It was a level of control that he couldn’t have fathomed before, knowing that Matt was truly helpless and fragile underneath him. _He_ decided how much Matt was worth. He could stop whenever he wanted to. Matt couldn’t do anything. 

Ryan pressed his shoe against Matt’s stomach. Matt choked out a whine and gasped, “Not there, I-I feel sick, I’m gonna be sick. Ryan, fuck, this hurts, why—why’d you _do_ that?”

Ryan didn’t have an answer for him. All he could do was shove his shoe down hard into the taut flesh of Matt’s stomach.

Matt’s coughing fit resumed as he curled in on himself, rolling to the side and holding his midsection. He gagged and covered his mouth, his teary eyes wide with terror before he retched. His stomach heaved emptily a few times before he vomited, splattering on the carpet. The blood and saliva and wet mucus that dribbled down his face mixed with the stuff in the most awful way, creating a repulsive amalgamation, thoroughly undesirable. 

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” Ryan uttered, revolted as he stepped back from Matt’s tiny, weak, stick-bundle body. “Look at you.”

Tears slid down Matt’s face as he groaned low in his throat, pushing himself up and clumsily wiping at his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Ryan, I am, I’m really sorry.”

“You should be. Why can’t you control yourself?”

“I-I don’t—I don’t know.” Matt sniffled and shook his head, resting it against the side of a couch cushion. 

“Stop crying. You’re a grown man.” Ryan reached down to slap Matt’s cheek, stinging it red. “What are you crying for?” 

“‘Cause it hurts,” Matt managed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Ryan, stop.” He was begging now, his voice scratched and wet. 

“I know how to make it all better, baby.” Ryan pulled Matt upright, sitting him up in front of the couch. He readjusted Matt’s broken glasses for him. “Sorry I’ve been treating you so bad. You don’t deserve that. _I_ know what you deserve.” He pulled his shorts down and he saw Matt’s face twist with confusion and fear. 

“You know I don’t like that,” Matt said, sounding small, looking at Ryan’s dick like it was a foreign object. “I told you, I can’t suck dick, I don’t like it.”

“Maybe you don’t like it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. I know you can. We both know you can.” Ryan smeared the head of his cock against Matt’s dirty cheek. “You want me to put it in your ass instead?”

“No,” Matt muttered, gingerly lifting his hand and wrapping it around the base of Ryan’s cock. 

“You’d like it, though, wouldn’t you? You fucking faggot.” 

Matt winced and took Ryan into his mouth, maybe just so he wouldn’t have to respond. Blood was coagulated around his nose, his chin and the side of his face sticky and sour with vomit. He looked worthless and perverted beyond repair. Cum was really the only thing missing. 

Matt wasn’t the greatest at sucking dick, but he could definitely do it. He did it rather mechanically, going through the motions of someone who had been forced to do this time and time again, working himself as best he could. He was messier when he was drunk. Drool rolled down the length of Ryan’s dick, spilling out of the corners of Matt’s mouth as he sucked, making a muffled, garbled sound that was trapped in his throat. 

“This is what you’re good for. Fuck, take it, you little bitch.” Ryan braced his hand against the couch, leaning over Matt and grasping a fistful of his hair. “Feel so fucking good.” Matt’s mouth felt so hot, so raw, so wet, trained to take what he was given. His fingers clutched at Ryan’s thighs and dragged down, fingernails biting at Ryan’s skin when Ryan gave a particularly rough thrust and shoved the head of his cock down Matt’s throat. He felt it close up and flutter rapidly around him as Matt scraped desperately at his skin, gagging.

Ryan pulled out just in time for Matt to dip his head and retch again. He threw watery, discolored bile up on the floor between Ryan’s legs, his shoulders curled in, his shattered glasses sliding off and landing in the sick. 

“I swear to Christ, if you puke on my dick, I’m actually gonna kill you.” Ryan barely gave Matt any recovery time, pulling his head back up. He slid his dick back inside Matt’s open mouth, feeling the sickest, most sinister thrill of pleasure when Matt went limp and let Ryan fuck him like a doll. 

Maybe Matt had somewhat overcome his fear of vomit, but it didn’t change how sensitive his gag reflex still was. Every time Ryan came anywhere near Matt’s throat, he felt it contract around him rapidly. Matt was sprawled against the couch, blind and bleeding, engulfed over and over. He felt Matt groan low around him and Ryan hissed, heat twisting his insides into knots and knots again. 

He pulled back out of Matt and pulled shakily on his dick a few times before he came. He kept his grip tight on Matt’s hair, keeping his head in place so he could hit him properly. Spunk splattered Matt’s ruined face, hot and white rolling down his cheeks, almost as salty as the tears that continued to spill. 

Ryan tried to catch his breath as he stared at Matt, who had never looked more debauched. His shoulders jerked with every quiet sob, his teeth clenching as he looked back at Ryan, terrified and disoriented.

“You smell like shit,” Ryan told him. 

Matt just nodded, sniffing hard and shuddering. “It hurts,” he breathed. “Fuck, i-it hurt when I did that.”

“You gotta clean up the mess you made, y’know.” 

Matt nodded again, looking back down. 

“Here.” Ryan reached down and plucked Matt’s glasses off the floor. “Clean those off.”

Matt took them gingerly and folded the hem of his shirt over his fingers in an attempt to wipe the lenses. 

“No, not with your shirt. Use your tongue.” 

Matt looked back up. “What?” he whimpered. 

“Do it. Clean them up.” 

Matt hesitated for a moment before he swallowed and gave in. He licked the bitter, empty, alcoholic vomit off the cracked glass and made a disgusted little sound under his breath before he carefully pushed the glasses back up his nose, shivering in pain. 

“That’s a good boy.” Ryan brushed his thumb tenderly over Matt’s temple, one of the only parts of his face that wasn’t covered in some bodily fluid. “You doing okay?”

“No, I’m not, fuck, I’m, I think you broke my nose,” Matt croaked. “Everything smells fucking horrible.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that. You should clean up your mess, Matthew.” 

“Now? I gotta clean all this shit off my face!”

“You want it to soak into the carpet? It’s _your_ carpet.” 

Matt leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes. He coughed again. “I hate you,” he said dully.

“Aw, Matt.” Ryan cradled Matt’s wet, sticky cheek, bending down to kiss the top of his head. “I know.” 


End file.
